


Lockdown

by Port_of_Morrow



Category: James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 21:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2362934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Port_of_Morrow/pseuds/Port_of_Morrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mi6 is on lockdown - and who's Q left with in Q branch for an hour and a half but the stubborn, insufferable, ever-annoying 007. </p><p>This is fluff, it's romance, it's James and Q getting a bit gay with eachother. It's MI6 Lockdown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lockdown

If there was anything that irritated Q more than absolutely any ignorant act in the world, it was someone sitting in his chair.

And it wasn't even someone he could tolerate- it was, of course, the self-involved insistently irritating 007.

 

The young quartermaster made his way into Q branch as he did each morning; silver earphones singing whatever album he pleased into his ears, his anorak tight around his thin body and a nearly empty Nero coffee cup clasped in his left hand; his laptop bag in the other.

Bond noticed how he looked like some trendy sixth former who was trying as hard as possible not to be trendy because that was so uncool.

But of course he was.

His skinny chequered trousers, his NHS prescription half rimmed glasses, his beautiful mop of brown curls-

Beautiful? Did Bond just think... no. The agent shook the thought from his mind as he watched Q approach the office through the glass walls, from his vantage point in the department leader's very comfortable office chair.

 

Q started shouting before he'd even fully walked through the doorway.

 _“OH MY GOD, Bond,”_ he shrieked, his coffee cup tucked in the crook of his elbow whilst he held the glass door open. He quickly hurried in, ripping his earphones from his ears.

“Out! OUT! Get off!” he shouted, practically tipping the older man from his chair, shaking it until the agent removed himself.

 

“Someone’s having their latest adolescent moodswing,” Bond quipped.

“Funny,” Q sighed, slumping down in his chair which was now unpleasantly warm, “So 007, before I banish you from the office would you care to tell me why you're here?” he sighed exasperatedly.

 

“M's put me off active duty for a month due to a slight mishap regarding me spraining my ankle whilst, er, tripping down the stairs,”

“Britain’s number one weapon, ladies and gentlemen,” Q muttered, whilst tapping his password into his laptop,

“So I'm doing his bidding for a bit. I need to test the new weapons your department's sending out to 003 in Nigeria.”

 

Q sighed, as he skimmed over his email, before swivelling his chair to Bond, “Ah, 003, you know she's nearly better at losing her weapons than you are 007, you'll have to work harder- wouldn't want to lose your coveted status,”

 

“Funny,” Bond smirked, mocking Q's earlier tone.

 

“Anyway- I'll head over to the weaponry with you in a minute,” Q said slowly, returning to his email, “If you wouldn't mind could you get the kettle on?” He asked, not moving his eyes from the screen but just raising his Scrabble mug an inch or two off the table with his right hand.

The agent stared at him incredulously, “You're getting one of Britain's top agents to make you tea?”

And Q was just about to slander back when the tannoy suddenly buzzed to life. Both the quartermaster and agent were instantly alert, for the MI6 tannoy was really only used in emergency.

 

It was a tinny version of M's voice that spoke from the overhead sound system, “Employees of MI6, this is an internal service announcement: a capsule of uranium was found embedded in an agent by Medical - chemical professionals are arriving as soon as possible but for the foreseeable future M16 is on lock-down. No one is to enter or exit the department they are currently in, and all doors have been systematically locked. Please stay where you are and medical operatives will come and run through safety procedures with you as soon as possible. I repeat, MI6 is on lock-down.”

 

The pair stood together in stunned silence for a moment. Q spoke first,

“Oh gosh - this...” he turned to the agent, who had worked in MI6 far longer than he, “Does this happen a lot?”

 

007 sighed, “Once every couple years. I was thinking it's been a while since we've had a good old lock-down,”

“This isn't funny!” Q went pale, rushing over to the glass door and shaking it wildly, before banging on it with his fists, “Shit shit shit, no! I can't be stuck in here!” he cried,

 

“I'm offended, darling,” Bond gasped dramatically, eliciting a quick, “Don't screw with me, Bond” from the quartermaster.

 

It took a good ten minutes or so of Q pounding the doors and then darting to his laptop to try and hack into the logic-gates which controlled the lock systems, before finally accepting his fate that he was stuck in his office with _double-oh-fucking-seven_ for the “foreseeable future”.

 

The agent was sat quietly in a chair by the small kitchenette, sipping in a relaxed manner at a cup of tea.

 

“Well make yourself at home, by all means!” Q scowled, raising his hands and then letting them drop against his sides. The quartermaster slumped into his desk chair, defeated.

 

“Lighten up, possum,” James gave a half smile.

 

“Okay,” Q huffed. Q had to admit, in all his anger, that there was something quite admirable about the relaxed way in which the agent handled everything.

 

Being called “possum” was wholly ridiculous though, and he let James know, with a raised eyebrow, as he broke into a pack of Trebor’s Extra Strongs from his top drawer

 

Q decided he may as well use this time to get around to some things he’d been putting off; updating the MI6 internal blog, emailing his mum… he tapped in a couple of URLs.

 

“You've got to be fucking.... ARGH!” Q groaned, as he realised that the department's wifi was shut down too, and mobile coverage eliminated.

It was standard procedure in chemical lock-down - giving employees contact with the outside world before MI6 could disclose a proper press release was simply too dangerous.

 

Before Q could break out into a full internet-deprivation-sob, Bond placed a steaming cup of tea down on the table.

“You actually... oh, thanks,” Q murmured, looking up the blonde agent towering above his slumped, thin figure. Q sipped at the tea,

“You actually made it nice,” he said in an offensively surprised manner.

Bond just leant over and bumped his mug against Q's, “cheers,” he said, before downing the rest of his tea.

 

“So Q,” Bond sighed, pulling a swivel chair from an empty desk and placing it in front of Q's cluttered one.

 

Q closed his laptop - there was nothing he could do with it anyway - and glanced up as James continued to talk.

 

“How long’ve you been with MI6 now?”

 

“Eleven months come next week…” Q shrugged as he tipped another mint into his mouth. He offered the roll to James who smiled, ripping one from the paper and slowly pushing it between his teeth.

 

Annoyingly handsome.

 

“Dipped you quill in company ink yet?”

 

“Dipped my _what?_ ” Q asked with feigned innocence, sipping at his hot beverage.

 

“Have you?”

 

“What on earth makes you think I would tell you if I did, 007?” Q smirked, crunching away at another Trebor.

 

James just shrugged, toying with the handle of his empty mug.

 

“We’re alone here. Might be for hours. Might as well talk about _something_ ,” he shrugged again.

 

Q eyed him up suspiciously, coming to the conclusion that James wasn’t teasing, or being sneaky, or flirtatious right now. He was just being friendly.

 

“Well, yes. I have. Once.” Q said solemnly, composed. He sipped at his tea.

 

“You _know_ I’m going to ask who it was.”

 

“I- er,” Q started, but didn’t quite finish. Telling James he was gay wasn’t something he really wanted to do right now… not when they were locked in a room together. Not when he knows it would make the agent uncomfortable.

 

“Someone from Medical, actually. A nurse. We went out for two months.”

 

“Who ended it?” James raised an eyebrow.

 

“Me.” Q said curtly, rocking back in his chair.

 

“What did he do?”

 

“He-” Q began, before instantly flushing red. “What…”

 

“‘Just figured…” James shrugged, before nicking another Trebor from Q’s roll. Q let him.

 

“I, er, I wasn’t going to tell you.”

 

“Sorry.” James rubbed the side of his nose, leaning back on his chair.

 

They sat there in silence for a minute, neither knowing exactly what to say.

 

James spoke first.

 

“I’ve been with men, too.”

  
Q furrowed his brow, glancing at James suspiciously - again.

 

“Oh,” the younger man said. “Didn’t know that.”

 

“Yeah, well.” James shrugged, toeing the carpet nervously.

 

“Who was it then?” he asked.

 

Q laughed. “You’re really expecting me to tell you?”

 

James laughed too, and then some more, because god - cutting that tension felt good.

 

“It was, er,” Q said through his laughing, before breathing deeply and calming down, “Ernie Joyce.”

 

“He’s handsome, didn’t know he swung,”

 

“He swings very well,” Q laughed.

 

“Bet he does,” James chuckled back, reaching for a few more mints and crunching away at them.

 

“So what about you then?” Q asked tentatively, instinctively checking his phone but then realising that the internet was down anyway.

 

“What about me?”

 

“Who have you … you know, men-wise…”

 

“Oh, it’s mostly just on missions.  You have to be careful… nowhere near the Middle East, Central Africa, Russia…”

 

“Huh, I can imagine,” Q huffed.

 

“America’s alright… most places in Europe are fine. Greece, Italy, France, dead easy,” James smirked easily.

 

Q wasn’t quite sure what to think. James spoke about it so liberally and openly… he didn’t even know Q that well.

 

“Nothing long term then?”

 

“Once, when I was serving,”

 

“Blimey,” Q said quietly.

 

“I know,” James laughed. “He was called William. He was lovely.”

 

“Ever thought of getting back into contact?” Q said sensitively, downing another Trebor.

 

James sighed, rocking his head back in his chair as he kicked his feet up onto Q’s desk.

 

The quartermaster opened his mouth, about to snap, but didn’t. James was being nice to him - he might just let it slide this time.

 

“I don’t think so. It was forever ago…”

 

“Why did you break up?”

 

“He fell in love with someone else.” James shrugged.

 

“Oh,” Q diverted his eyes, “Pity. His loss.”

 

James huffed at that, “Not quite, Q,” he said pointedly. “Doesn’t matter. Was forever ago.”

 

“Okay,” Q said, because he really couldn’t think of anything else to say.

 

Silence lay between them for a minute, before James leapt to his feet.

 

“This is boring, let’s _do_ something.”

 

“Like what?” Q huffed.

 

“Don’t know… how about a movie?”

 

“Can’t get online,” Q retorted.

 

James grumbled. “Er, don’t you have anything downloaded?”

 

“Oh, er, yeah. One or two things…” Q nodded, opening his computer and tapping into his downloaded files.

 

“Let’s see….” James smirked, making his way around to Q’s side of the desk and looking over his shoulder.

 

“Wow… is this the world’s biggest collection of dork movies?” James quipped, glancing at a variety of crime, histories and documentaries.

 

“My… my personal DVD collection is more interesting,” Q flushed, noting how his film library was actually exceptionally boring.

 

“I _bet_ it is,” James smirked cheekily.

 

“Oi! Not like _that_ ,” Q laughed, punching the agent’s chest playfully.

 

“Well… it’s between some Shakespeares, first world war docs…. IBM’s role in the cold war….” James had leant over Q’s shoulder, scrolling down with his finger on the mousepad. He suddenly paused.

 

“You _don’t_ have Brokeback.”

 

“Oh, god,” Q bumbled.

 

“You’re such a gay stereotype-”

 

“My _brother_ downloaded that for me as a joke when he found out.” Q rolled his eyes, attempting to scroll up to some of the more heterosexual cinema.

 

“Well, we’re watching it,” James said pointedly, stepping over to grab  another chair and wheeling it over next to Q’s.

 

“Oh _come_ on 007,” Q rolled his eyes.

 

“Objectively it’s the most interesting thing in your library, and Jake Gyllenhall is fit as a God in it.”

 

_“Bond!”_

 

“It’s true,” James laughed, tapping the film on.

 

“This film’s fucking depressing, Bond,” Q said pointedly, as the blond reclined in his chair, nudging his feet next to Q’s, brushing the toe of his shoe against Q’s ankle.

 

Q stopped, looking at where James had made contact with him.

 

“Sorry,” James said, noticing.

 

“No it’s okay,” Q said quickly, diverting his eyes to his computer screen.

 

Q flicked the lights off, creating what would have been a cosy cinema experience if they had something other to eat than Trebor mints and the stale biscuits from the department tin James had brought over as if he owned the place.

 

“What’s your type then?” James said quietly, as Jake and Heath started chatting by the pick-up van.

 

Q swallowed, “Erm… I like clever guys I suppose… you know, er, I like a chap who takes care of himself, health-wise and that”

 

“I was talking about biscuits Q,” James coughed, nudging the tin a bit closer to him.

 

Q blushed immediately.

  
“Ah.”

 

“Because I was going to go for the Bourbon, but, you know, if they’re more your type…”

 

“Go for it,” Q laughed, “I prefer the Jammy Dodgers,”

 

“What are you, ten?”

 

“Eleven, actually,” Q smirked as he snapped the sugary jam filled biscuit in half.

 

“Haven’t had one of those in ages…” James whispered, allowing Q to hear the film.

 

“Well, here,” Q shrugged, holding up the biscuit between his long pale fingers.

 

James nodded his head forward and bit it from Q’s hand, tossing it to the back of his throat and eating it.

 

“You animal,” Q whispered.

  
“Care for a Bourbon?” James nodded his head closer to Q’s. The younger man could feel the agent’s breath on his neck.

 

He shivvered, instinctively.

 

“I’m sure I can help myself,” Q spoke in his self-indignant tone, tucking his hand into the biscuit tin. James’s was still there and the sides of their hands brushed up against eachother as James moved his out.

 

“Oh, sorry,”

 

“Shh, it’s fine,” Q said. He glanced at James and swallowed the lump developing in his throat. He didn’t want to find James handsome, he didn’t want to have all kinds of images running through his head the moment James had said he hooked up with beautiful strange men in France or in Italy, he didn’t want his heart to be beating just a step faster than usual right now. But alas, Q’s emotions had a very annoying way of taking control of him at unexpected times.

 

Before he even knew what he was doing, his toe was back on James’s ankle, rubbing gently against the thin layer of grey cashmere. Q kept his eyes on the computer screen, but he somehow knew that James was looking at him with a very perplexed expression on his face.

 

He heard James inhale quickly, as if he were about to speak, but then he didn’t. Instead, James moved his arm to rest on the back of Q’s chair. Not touching him, not yet.

 

“Jammie Dodger?” James whispered.

 

Q laughed in a sudden release of tension, “Yeah, go on then,” he whispered back.

 

James picked one out of the tin and held it up to Q’s mouth.

 

Q turned to him and gave him a very pointed glare as if to say “I know this is riduculous, you know this is ridiculous, we’re not teenagers but something kind of makes me want to touch you right now, so I’m going to,” and then leant forwards, biting half of the biscuit from James’s fingers. He didn’t move. James stroked his finger over Q’s lower lip.

 

“There was a crumb,” James explained himself, matter of factly.

 

“Mmm,” Q agreed, and James continued; moving his thumb across the crease under Q’s lower lip. Q quickly finished what he was eating and met James’s eyes properly. They were so tremendously focused, creased around the edges, but strong, unwavering, concentrated.

 

Q’s breath was hot against James’s hand. As their eyes really focused on eachother, he moved his fingers from Q’s lip and rested his hand on the side of the younger man’s head, fingers brushing against his ear, thumb lodged under Q’s jaw.

 

Q inhaled sharply.

 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he murmured, heart beating unbelievably quickly and pupils blown wide.

 

“Honestly, no,” James swallowed, gently moving his hand on the side of Q’s face.

 

“Okay,” the younger man smiled nervously, before closing the distance between him and James and kissing the agent’s parted lips.

 

James breathed in deeply before kissing Q back, letting his eyelids fall over his focused eyes, and just losing himself.

 

They kissed for a minute, before Q diverted his eyes back to his laptop quickly.

 

“God, can we, er…” his mind was a total whirlwind right now.

 

“Shut it down,”

 

“Yeah,” Q breathed before slamming his computer shut and returning to James. He felt his heart pound like a drum when he glanced at the usually totally composed, suave Bond only to see a wistful looking man who looked more like a teenager, lips parted and red, cheeks flushed and eyes blown wide.

 

“My God,” Q breathed, before moving his hand to the agent’s shoulder and kissing him again, almost desperately. Q wished he could put it down to the fact that he hadn’t kissed anyone in about half a year, but he had to admit to himself that kissing 007 was invigorating. The imbecile, the man he’d bitch about at any given point in the Q-branch break room, the insufferable, stubborn agent who’d managed to irritate him endlessly was now sucking on his lower lip as his strong, calloused hand brushed gingerly across Q’s collabone, pushing his black tie over his shoulder.

 

Q didn’t know what to do with his hands - James seemed to have this down to an art with the way he touched Q and kissed him with varying degrees of intensity. He imagined the agent must be quite experienced, from what he said he gets up to on missions. Q imagined him - tossing about in beachside shacks with olive skinned waitors, having his way with beautiful Europeans who couldn’t speak English, being shagged by gorgeous American boys with accents…. and then Q really wished he hadn’t because he felt significantly more tuned on than he’d intended to be.

 

He moved his lips to James’s perfectly unshaven chin and then, as the agent rocked his head backwards, down his neck - leaving kisses on the inches of skin down to the crisp collar of his white shirt.

 

“Q, _God_ ,” James purred, actually _purred_ and it was at that point that Q realised that his sterile, overly-tired office was so not the place he wanted to get to know James like this. Even though it was literally impossible for them to be walked in on by anyone, Q couldn’t really imagine a less romantic or arousing setting.

 

“007,” Q breathed against his neck.

 

“I’m James…” he whispered.

 

His heart picked up again.

 

“J-James,” Q tested it out. He moved his head back and then turned, leaning flat back in his chair.

 

“Whoa,” he sighed.

 

“Yeah,” James agreed - he wasn’t quite sure what to.

 

“We can’t do this here… I….”

 

“No, it’s fine, I agree,” James said matter of factly, as if he were agreeing to some change of policy M had suggested.

 

“I’m so hot for you though,” he swallowed.

 

“James,” Q huffed, turning to the older man (he didn’t want to think how much older right now) and smiling at how utterly dishevelled he looked. “I’m not.. I’m not going to tug you off like two sixteen year olds in the changing rooms.”

 

“Oh, done that have you?” James drawled.

 

Q smiled cheekily, “Mmm, for a term, at school,”

 

“Can’t believe you were on a sports team,” James smirked, wheeling his chair a few degrees to face Q’s, leaning back in it.

 

“I played cricket for a season,” Q laughed shaking his head.

 

“How gentlemanly,”

 

“Only because my brothers did. _Hated_ it… well, not _all_ of it,”

 

James grinned, “Come on then,”

 

“His name was Edward Penman or something, he was the batter or whatever they were called. We used to hook up a bit after practice, that’s all. He was so cute… oh my god why am I telling you this…”

 

“I think it’s kind of sweet. I didn’t kiss a chap until I was twenty-eight.”

 

“Oh, whoa, beat you on something there,” Q chuckled.

 

“Mind if I finish my biscuit?”

 

“By all means,” James sighed, pushing the Jammy Dodger several inches forward towards Q.

 

The younger man made a mock-sad face, before picking it up and feeding it to himself.

 

James laughed out loud.

 

And just before Q could ask James to recount one of his encounters, the tannoy buzzed to life again.

 

 _“Great,”_ James sighed sarcastically.

 

M’s voice revisited them again. The uranium had been taken care of. And just like that, lockdown was over. Q glanced at his door as it electronically clicked away, remotely unlocking.

 

He glanced at James, unsure exactly of what was to happen now.

 

“What now?” James asked.

 

“My employees will be coming in soon. They’re usually here a little after me. I expect they’ve been locked in the lobby or something.”

 

“You were going to take me through to weaponry,” James said, as if the last ninety minutes literally had not happened.

 

“Um… yes, I suppose I was.” Q said, momentarily distracted as two young programmers stepped into the room.

 

“Morning Q,” one smiled, the other chuckled. Q flushed red and turned to James.

 

_“What are they laughing at?"_

“Come here,” James sighed, stepping closer to Q and buttoning up his top two shirt buttons that had come undone, tightening his tie and fixing his glasses.

 

“All better,” James whispered.

 

A few more employees shuffled into the room and took their seats at their desks.

 

“M wants you, Q,” one programmer poked her head in. “Something about 003’s come up. He says abandon whatever you were up to with 007. One of us can handle that.

 

“Ah,” Q sighed, dissapointedly, “Um, Jason will assist you in weaponry, 007,” he said properly to the agent. “I’ll see you later.”

 

James smiled at Q, raising a Jammy Dodger to his own mouth and biting it sharply in half. He licked up a line of jam from the inside.

  
“See you later, Q.”

  
  
  


 


End file.
